


Before She Lay Down to Sleep

by EbonyBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyBlack/pseuds/EbonyBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was her nightly pattern, her bedtime process -  her ritual of sorts. Ever since her mother died. Rituals were very important, her mother always said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before She Lay Down to Sleep

It was her nightly pattern, her bedtime process - her ritual of sorts. Ever since her mother died. Rituals were very important, her mother always said. They helped to keep you in balance, which helped keep your magic in balance. Fall too far out of balance, and your wand would start shooting off sticky heaps of Kremblers in rebellion, and then you’d have a wild time of cleaning up ahead of you. She’d never seen it happen, but her mother had three times, maybe four, and she’d explained it very vividly. Yes, Luna certainly didn’t want that to happen. So she followed their little ritual every night single night after she was gone. Even the night of the funeral, as the tears clumped her eyelashes together and trickled down her nose. 

First, she’d put on some Muggle music on her gramophone (a 5th Birthday gift from her father, authentic in ever way, except for the fact that the horn had unknowingly been replaced with a discarded tuba painted pink. It made the songs rather oof-ey, and quite nice.) Her mother had always been especially fond of Debussey, but she’d liked Chopin better. She found herself playing more and more Debussey as she grew older. Most witches and wizards didn’t know how important it was to listen to Muggle music. Like Dumbledore had said, music was a type of magic. And since it was the only way for Muggles to let out their inner magic, one could only assume that the energy of their music was extra strong. Basking in magic was good for your skin, her mother used to say. Plus with her gramophone, she could play the records backwards and listen for the secret messages written in by the composers. That’s how she knew the truth: that Debussey’s Clair de Lune was really reflecting on a very particular shade of purple, and three of Chopin’s waltzes were remembrances of an especially yummy chocolate pudding. 

Then she’d dance a bit, shaking her hips and tapping her toes. Clapping three times on each side, hopping up and down four times, balancing on her head for 15 seconds, and repeating twice. And doing it all to the beat (she’d gotten better with practice.) Dancing was good for her limbs. It helped shake out the Bibkies.

Then she’d have a sip of water and a sip of Dilly’s brew (except on full moons, when she’d have a sip of Dellie’s brew.) The water because she’d be thirsty after the dancing. The brew because it enhanced the intensity of the colors in her dreams.

Then she brushed her teeth and washed her hair. She’d add some Lavender extract to the water as it ran down her silvery locks. Because it smelled nice. 

After hair washing came hair braiding. Three French braids, nice and tight. Pulling the scalp promoted blood circulation to the brain. That’s why Luna’s mother had been so brilliant, and that was why she was smart too. On more than one occasion, she’d encouraged the other Ravenclaw girls to adopt braids, but they clearly didn’t understand the benefits. Luna slept in the braids. When she woke up in the morning, she’d take them out and her hair would be kinky-curly, which was quite perfect because Flex’s were less likely to lay their eggs in kinky-curly hair than they were in straight hair. Plus it looked quite nice, she thought.

Once her hair was all washed, she’d read for a bit. Learning was important. As soon as one mystery was solved, another was discovered. She rather liked that.

Speaking of mysteries, after reading, Luna would check her Snorkack map. It was a magicked parchment, another wonderful gift from her parents. The map would light up in the places that Snorkack sightings had occurred that day. She knew there had to be a pattern to when and where they spent their time. She just hadn’t figured it out yet. She would one day though, she was sure of that.

She’d change out from her bath robe and into her sleeping robe. She’d put on four socks: one on each foot, and one on each hand. She’d always found it strange that people denied their fingers the warmth that they offered their toes. 

She’d turn off her light, and bid her pet two-headed glowworm (Oliver and Elliot, the right head and the left head respectively) a good night. The soft glow that her worm (or worms, really) radiated always helped lull her to sleep.

And then she’d cuddle into her bed. And if she was home, her father would come in and kiss the second knuckle of her left hand good night. And if she was at Hogwarts, she would just snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

And she would close her eyes and listen. Her mother always said that it was important to take some time and listen every day. Because you never knew what you might hear. Maybe the trees creaking in the wind, or maybe a wolf howling and a yellow-winged brink-dinger singing. Maybe just the flapping of owl wings. Sometimes just a cat purring. And always the memories. She always heard the sweet murmur of memories. 

And she’d close her eyes and breath in the sounds. And she’d smile just a bit, the corners of her lips crooking up in the night. And she’d whisper “Sweet dreams,” to her mother, and she’d fall asleep to the gentle response of the wind.


End file.
